


shades of blue

by WhereverMyWay



Series: ☽ ○ sad boys club ○ ☾ [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blood and Gore, Codependency, Dark, Disturbing Themes, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Exsanguination, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Instability, Obsession, Overdosing, Profanity, Self-Harm, Suicide, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Vomiting, drug dealer/client to lovers!au, graphic descriptions of death, please read the disclaimers, sadfic, this is incredibly fucked up and i am so sorry, this is my magnum opus and i stand by that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26770228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhereverMyWay/pseuds/WhereverMyWay
Summary: It starts with a kiss that seemingly brings Changbin back to life, something so good that it makes all of the colours around him a little more vibrant and vivid again. Someone finally understood Changbin and loved him for who he was: scars, mistakes, raging drug addiction, and all. To him, Chan was better than drugs and it wasdangerous. They both know they shouldn't be together, that they were equal parts wonderful and terrible for each other, but they just couldn't stop.Alternatively: two mentally unwell men fall in love while tripping hard one night and it becomes a problem when they need to return to reality.-please mind the tags and disclaimers at the beginning notes of the fic. this fic is dark, and containsverydisturbing, graphic content, including graphic descriptions of death.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Seo Changbin
Series: ☽ ○ sad boys club ○ ☾ [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157111
Comments: 21
Kudos: 65





	shades of blue

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE READ THE DISCLAIMERS.**  
>   
>  **disclaimer:** any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now. 
> 
> **secondary disclaimer:** drugs are bad, don’t do them. please, seriously, mixing cocaine and MDMA is dangerous since they’re both stimulants, and you probably won’t feel very good doing it, especially if you mix them with alcohol. I wrote this from the perspective of two mentally unstable people, so that’s why it’s written the way it is. don’t do what they do. you put yourself at risk of heart attacks and strokes so PLEASE don’t do this shit. 
> 
> **tertiary disclaimer:** again, PLEASE read the tags. this fic includes suicide, self harm, drug use and addiction, alcohol use, major character death, graphic descriptions of death, unhealthy relationship dynamics, two very mentally unwell men in love, memories of rape, and homophobia (internalized and related to the rape that is referenced). this fic is disturbing and it’s supposed to be. if you do not heed the warnings and tags, that is not on me, not after all of these warnings, so PLEASE do not attack me. the characters referenced in this fic are just the names and faces from the members of stray kids and I mean no ill will or intention with this work of fiction. 
> 
> **triggering content starts at the end, stop reading at “There was blood and a chef's knife on the floor…” if you don't want to read about graphic descriptions of death.**
> 
> if you have thoughts of suicide or struggle with mental wellness, please reach out to your [local hotline or emergency services.](https://www.opencounseling.com/suicide-hotlines) life is worth it, I promise.
> 
>  **recommended tracks:** [playlist is here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLy7IldVlbSYsZu_0puQDAhqqOfcfAaxbz)  
>  **inspired by "cassie" by chase atlantic.**  
>  _"she left a dent in my heart as she drove with her car into my life."_

Seo Changbin couldn’t remember when everything started hurting all the time. It was like there was a taut, tense rope that wrapped itself around his body, tighter and tighter every day. Even breathing was insufferably painful at times. Everything was muted and desaturated; nothing seemed worth it anymore. Why was he still holding on? What was the fucking point?

He woke up on the floor of his washroom, a pile of drool pooling neatly under his cheek. God, did his head fucking hurt. It was throbbing, pounding, and there was nothing Changbin wanted more than to just stick it in a meat grinder. The sunlight was pouring in the window, directly on his face, as if to spite him. He groans, shoving his face into the ground a little harder as he came to.

He needed a line and he needed it right fucking _now_.

Chan. He needed to call Chan. Where was his goddamn phone? 

Changbin slowly sat up, feeling the weight of the world shoving him in a thousand different directions as his body spun and the universe shifted around him. Getting up the morning after a bender was always a bad time, especially when he remembered nothing from the night before. If he were a normal human being, he would feel shame or regret, but he just felt nothing. 

He reached up to grab his head and there was a searing pain in his left arm as his sleeve stuck to his skin. Shit. He knew this feeling and his stomach turned. With bated breath, Changbin sucked in some air through his teeth and grabbed the sleeve, wincing as he slowly pulled it up to reduce the pain he knew it was going to cause him.

There was a lot of dried blood and a lot of haphazard cuts all around his arm. It was nauseating to look at, but this happened so frequently now that he was slowly becoming numb to it. 

“Fucking hell,” he mumbles under his breath and lets out a long, exasperated sigh. Someday, he would get his life in order. Someday, he would stop being so self-destructive and get help and get clean.

That day, however, was not today.

The wave of nausea comes back with a violent punch to his gut. Cold, sweaty tingles prickled up from his toes all the way to the back of his neck. Right on cue, he was going to be sick, just like every time before. He grabs the edge of the sink and somehow manages to pull himself up just in time for him to stick his head into the basin and violently cough out a pitiful amount of searing bile, letting it dribble down his chin.

When he finally stopped dry heaving, Changbin turned the handle of the water faucet straight up the middle, letting the water splash off of the bowl of the sink and up into his face. He indiscriminately wiped his face a couple of times, then rinsed out his mouth with a couple swigs of water. He turned the faucet off and looked up at the mirror, disturbed by the shell of a human that was lifelessly looking back at him.

His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles underneath his eyelids, and his cheeks were sunken in. Honestly, he looked like a walking corpse most days; his skin was so ashy grey and lifeless. He had lost probably five kilograms in the past couple of months and all of his clothing looked so baggy and sad on him. Lately, he didn’t feel much, but when he saw the way he looked in the mirror, he just felt miserable. He used to think about music and becoming successful in life. Now, all he thought about was cocaine and numbing every single one of his feelings. Feelings meant pain. 

Changbin pushed himself off of the side of the sink and scanned his eyes around the floor for his phone. Somehow, it ended up covered by the shower curtain, but it was still in one piece. There was thankfully some battery left in it when he pushed the side button, the illumination shining into his eyes and making his head throb again. It hurt so badly, until he saw multiple texts from his dealer, Bang Chan, then he allowed himself to feel a little better.

> 10:42 | snowboi: bin! I got the stuff ready for you  
> 10:45 | snowboi: I gotchu a little surprise just for fun ok  
> 10:52 | snowboi: also do you mind if I come and hang out with you today cos im really bored and wanna get drunk with u lol  
> 10:52 | snowboi: I have nothing to do and i keep thinking of that pasta joint by your apartment  
> 10:53 | snowboi: but its cool if you dont wanna! no worries!  
> 10:56 | snowboi: haha sry I am just an entire mess

Chan was the dumbest dealer on the planet and it made Changbin genuinely smile; the way he acted gave him butterflies and warm fuzzy feelings that was strange to acknowledge. That behaviour of his caused Changbin to develop a bit of a crush on Chan, but he would never admit it out loud. He was terrified of other men finding out that he wasn’t straight, especially men that had an arsenal of various weapons stashed in their homes and overpriced cars. Men like Chan. 

The last time he got outed, it didn’t end well. It ended in him beaten, bloodied, nearly dead, and half-naked out behind a bar, discarded next to a dumpster like nothing more than garbage. It left him developing an addiction to cocaine and coping with his emotions by taking it out on himself with whatever various instruments he had available to him. 

He had developed a lot of scars over the past few months and cried himself to sleep too many nights in a row. The way that the strange men touched his skin and violated him made Changbin sick to his stomach and he was never able to rid the memory from his head.

So, he just stuffed it down. Masked it with drugs, alcohol, cutting; whatever would made him pretend to feel alive again. 

Changbin resigned himself to the fact that he would die miserable and alone, rather than ever trust someone ever again. Trusting people was hard, nigh impossible, for him now. He would consider letting Chan in a little bit more, but he was still unsure. He shouldn’t get close to his dealer, but it seemed like they were somehow becoming friends, completely by accident.

Or, Chan just liked the fact that Changbin was a source of money for him. That was the more logical conclusion.

Changbin shakes the thoughts out of his head, then taps on his phone’s screen a couple of times, hesitating to press the “call” button under snowboi’s face. It was stupid to have a photo of your drug dealer’s face on your phone, but it was such a good photo that Changbin couldn’t resist. Chan had posed with his fingers shaped in two peace signs right up against his eyes that were shut tightly due to the bright flash, and he was grinning like a madman, teeth bared and all.

Every time he saw that photo, it transported him to that night. They were out on Changbin’s balcony, staring out at the Seoul skyline, smoking some weed, and they got higher than they wanted to. Chan got a serious case of the giggles and looked so happy that Changbin _had_ to take a photo. He remembered feeling warm and happy in that moment, and wanted to memorialize it, remind him of it every time he thought of Chan. How he desperately wanted to live in that moment forever.

There he was, smiling and biting his lip again as he decides to call him. It took two rings before Chan eventually picked up.

“Bin!” Chan’s tinny voice startles Changbin as it pierces his eardrum. 

“Hey, Chan,” Changbin bashfully looks down to his feet as he half-smirks. There was something about hearing Chan’s excited voice that reminded him of a cup of warm coffee on a cold, snowy, wintry day. It wasn’t as much of a relief as the drugs or the cutting, but god, it felt good. It gave him a lovely rush of dopamine, like he could wait just a little longer for his next hit.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Chan chimed with a gleeful squeal. “You get my messages?”

“Yeah, and I need a hit badly, dude. Perfect timing.”

“Cool, cool,” Chan hums, “I’m in the area, so mind if I stop by soon? I’m gonna take a guess and say you haven’t eaten yet, so I’ll bring you that sun-dried tomato dish you like from Campania.”

Changbin’s stomach turned with a sense of discomfort. Why was Chan so nice to him? What were his actual intentions? Nobody was ever nice to Changbin without some sort of ulterior motive.

“You good, dude?” Chan questions from the other side of the line.

Changbin snaps his head back up and shakes vigorously back and forth. “Yeah, yeah, just zoning out. Went a little too hard last night, like usual.”

“Alright. Well, I’ll be there in like a half-hour or something,” Chan continues to hum in his cheerful, melodic voice. “You should go grab some beer or something from CU. I’ve got some in my car but I know we could use more. Drink some water, too. Got it?”

God, it was infuriating just how _nice_ Chan was to him. It was beyond confusing and made no sense. Why was he like this? What was wrong with him?

“Whatever, sure,” Changbin tries to sound as nonchalant and cool as he could. _Put on that fake bravado, make yourself tough, because you are a man and men aren’t supposed to have feelings_ , that’s what he’d tell himself every time that these soft feelings crept up. Feelings made you gay, and being gay was bad. Society kept shoving that stupid idea in his face, that he was horrible, a plight on society, and that he needed to feel shame for it. He would hold on to that shame for the rest of his life, whether he wanted to or not.

“Dope.” Chan says, and it sounds like he’s smiling. “I’ll see you soon!”

* * *

It was a long half-hour. Changbin managed to quickly shower, just to scrub off the sweat, blood, and mistakes from yesterday from his skin. He made sure to put on a long-sleeved sweatshirt to cover his new scars, because he knew he’d get strange looks from that sweaty, pimply clerk at CU that always worked on Tuesdays. 

What he was more concerned about, however, was how he knew Chan would look at him with concern and big, sad doe eyes. “You gotta stop this, man,” he would say as he pulled his lips down in a sad little frown and furrowed his right eyebrow in frustration. He did it every single time without fail.

Changbin grabs his apartment keys from off of the key rack next to his door as he left his apartment, slipping the hood of his sweater over his head, trying to erase himself as much as possible, be as invisible as he could make himself. He pulled a mask out of his front pocket and slipped his ears through the cotton rings, rendering himself more unrecognizable. 

It was a short walk from his apartment building. He snuck down the seven flights of stairs, then walked through the fire escape door, out of the parking garage, and breezing down the 200 or so metres of alleyways and sidewalk it took to get to CU.

He made sure to grab a few pre-drinking vitamin shots, several cans of beer, and some generic snacks, indiscriminately plucking them from the shelves and holding them in his arms. He should have grabbed a basket, but that would have been a smart idea and he wasn’t really thinking too hard about it.

Changbin shuffles up to the counter, dumping all of the things he grabbed onto it. The sweaty clerk was here again, just like he had predicted. His lip was sneered up as he scanned all the items, probably silently judging Changbin for grabbing so much beer before noon, but it didn’t bother him. It never bothered him; it was their unspoken agreement to never talk about what he purchased.

“Pack of the usual?” The clerk questions, and Changbin nods his head. He may have hated the sweaty, gross clerk for always judging him, but at least he was reliable. Changbin didn’t really smoke cigarettes, but sometimes he and Chan would go out onto the balcony and stare at the Seoul skyline and alternate between joints and cigarettes. It was helpful to have them, just in case.

“₩22,500.” Changbin pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and handed the clerk a couple of bills, getting some smaller bills and a ₩500 coin in return. “Have a nice day,” the clerk mumbles insincerely, passing the handle of the bag to Changbin, who takes it with a snap and walks out. Changbin pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time. Looks like he only had to wait another five or so minutes for Chan to show up.

He hated the fact that he got butterflies in his stomach and a lazy smirk under his mask just thinking about it.

* * *

Changbin got a text maybe five minutes after he got home, throwing the cans of beer in his nearly empty fridge. He rushed to his phone, resting on the kitchen counter.

> 12:02 | snowboi: sorry! took a little longer but I’m literally leaving campania now so I’ll see you in like five!   
> 12:03 | snowboi: I have been dreaming about this pasta for like a week ngl

It was really cute, Changbin had to admit. Chan was always aggressively excited in his texts, even if he didn’t intend to be. 

> 12:03 | sent: it’s cool just get here in one piece k  
> 12:04 | snowboi: have a lil faith dude yeesh  
> 12:04 | snowboi: be there in a few ok?

God, he hated that almost every little thing from this stupid man made him smile like an idiot. It was like he had a real, actual friend, and it was weird. It made his stomach turn a couple times. Not out of nausea, but out of nervousness, like Changbin was going to fuck this up somehow. He had a bad habit of saying too much too soon, so he never bothered to try to get too close to anyone, not anymore.

So, he waited a few more minutes, nervously pacing around the kitchen, subconsciously trying his damnedest to bore some holes in the floor with his feet. He waited, and waited, and waited, until he heard soft knocking on the door. Changbin steeled himself, making him seem strong and reserved as he shook the nerves from his body and went to answer the door.

“Hey,” he coolly said with a flat expression as he opened the door.

“Bin!” Chan happily shouted, wrapping his free arm around the younger man. “I’m a day early, but happy birthday!”

Oh shit, Changbin blinked a couple of times in confusion, mentally recalling the day. Today was August 10th, wasn’t it? When was the last time he celebrated his birthday, anyways?

“Anyway, don’t worry about the cost today. That’s the surprise — well, that and the pasta, but that was mostly because I love this place,” Chan relinquished Changbin from his grip and waved his hand, setting down the bag of food and the six pack of beer on the counter in the kitchen. “I wanted to come celebrate with my lonely friend since I knew he had no plans today. Right?” He turned around and flashed a wild grin at Changbin, which he hated. God, he hated it. It made his stomach flutter and quiver. Someone cared about him, and he had no idea how to handle it.

“Thanks, Chan,” he insincerely grumbles, nervously tucking his hands in his front pockets. “Dunno why, but thanks.” He had intended for that to be quieter than it came out, but Chan still nodded and responded.

“You deserve it, Binnie.”

No, he didn’t.

* * *

The two men ate their dishes in peace, and Chan cut up a couple lines on the table; that’s what Changbin was truly excited about. He could give two fucks about the food, even if it used to be his favourite dish from one of his favourite restaurants. He knew it wasn’t cheap for Chan to get, so he would slowly pick at it throughout the night just to make him happy, even though eating caused him physical pain and food tasted like bland nothingness nowadays. 

He bent down to inhale a line off the table, then looked over to Chan. “Thanks, man,” he modestly grinned. Changbin was finally starting to feel a little more normal and a little less on edge. The rush of cocaine warmed his veins and he started to feel normal, but he did feel a bit bad, feeling like he was going to have to owe Chan a favour. “You sure it’s okay, though?”

Chan waved his hand in the air, putting his can of beer back down on the table. “Dude, it’s fine, it’s fiiiiiiine,” he smiled, “I never really get to celebrate stuff like this with friends. Like, I don’t really have any friends. Nobody wants to be friends with a dealer and have to deal with all their baggage, or they just wanna use me to get their fix. There’s something different about you, though.”

Changbin pressed his lips into a firm line, not understanding why Chan suddenly considered him a friend. He had to have better, more sane and stable friends, he had to. Anyone had to be better than Changbin. “But like,” he groaned, “why _me?_ Why am I just not another client to you?”

“Well, you’re sincere, honest, and make me laugh, I guess?” Chan flashes a toothy grin at the younger man, which makes him awkwardly shuffle in his seat. “You tell me how it is, and nobody else really does that. You let me hang out with you and bitch about the shitty clients I have to deal with.” It was fair, he supposed. When he was with Chan, he could pretend to be normal and funny. He could imitate the shadow of who he used to be.

“You know I’m fucked up, though, right?”

Chan scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh my god, dude, I wouldn’t be selling shit to you if you were normal. Tell me something I don’t know. We’re all a little fucked up here.”

The quote reminded Changbin of something. “Hey,” he smirked, “wanna watch Alice in Wonderland? I’ve got it on DVD and you said you don’t have any other plans. I’m pretty sure I have leftover molly from the last time you were here, so that could be fun.”

“Ooh, reckless. I should be the good dealer and tell you that you shouldn’t mix shit like this, but fuck it.” Chan smiled softly and looked up to his junior. “It’s a terrible idea, and I love it. Let’s do it.”

* * *

The two of them were on the couch, about halfway through the movie when they really started feeling the effects of mixing the drugs together. Changbin didn’t feel it much, at least, not in a good way, sweaty and slightly queasy, but Chan was clearly feeling it. He had stripped his shirt off and was rolling his head back and forth in Changbin’s lap like a kitten, mewling and giggling as he spun around. God, Changbin was living for it, too. He loved the way that Chan felt against him and he was trying _so_ hard not to show it.

“Binnie,” the older man whined, pausing his movements as he looked up at Changbin and pouted. “Why are you so sad all the time? Is it supposed to be some cool boy vibe? Maybe it’s the _menhera_ aesthetic? I don’t get you.”

Changbin nervously swallowed, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to talk about this. “Chan,” he pressed, “I’m just…”

“Fucked up. I know, I know.” Chan whimpered, bringing a hand up to lazily stroke the younger man’s face. “I wish you didn’t hurt so much. You seem so good and nice. Really, you do.”

“I’m not a good person.” Changbin huffed, rolling his eyes and turning to pretend like he was focusing on the movie while his face flushed in embarrassment in combination with the rush from the drugs. The way that Chan’s fingers grazed against his skin felt dangerously delightful, like the devil was inviting him in to sin.

Chan was having none of it. He reached up to grab Changbin’s face with a firm grip, grasping his jaw and forcing Changbin to make eye contact with him. “So, you _are_ going for the cool, bad boy vibe?”

Changbin gritted his teeth in annoyance and rolled his eyes, pulling his face away from the older man’s grasp. “Chan, please,” he grumbled, “I’m not going for a vibe; this isn’t fucking tumblr. I’m just sad and fucked up and wanna numb the pain.”

“Why?”

“Because it hurts.” He spat out, the words layered with a venomous tone. It seemed obvious, but that was the best answer Changbin could offer without going into detail. He couldn’t go into detail; he refused.

“Want me to kill the person that hurt you? I got connections.” The way that casually rolled off Chan’s tongue alarmed Changbin. Logically, though, it shouldn’t’ve. He was talking to a literal fucking drug dealer.

“W-what?” Changbin stuttered as he looked down to the man in his lap, seriously considering the offer.

“I told you,” Chan flashes a toothy grin up at Changbin, “I got connections. Grr. I’m big and scary. You should be really afraid of me.” He curls his fingers up, as if he were imitating a cat, and quietly growls.

They both stared at each other, then laughed. They laughed harder than they should have, and it felt really good to finally let loose. Hell, he loved the way that Chan made him feel, under the influence or not. He always felt like he was on another plane of existence with this man and he really, honestly loved and hated it.

Chan reached over to the open can of beer he had on the table, tipping its residual contents into his mouth. He inhales sharply as he sits upright. “Bin?” Chan says, a serious tone to his voice as he sets his now-empty beer can on the table. “I know we’re being all happy and shit for a minute, but can I, uh, be honest with you?”

Changbin relaxes up against the back of the couch, folding his hands and cupping the back of his head. “Sure, hit me.”

Chan takes in a deep breath and looks up to Changbin with big, pleading eyes. He nibbles on his lips for a second, before he opens his mouth to speak. “Please don’t judge me, because it’s tough to admit, but, I, uh, really like spending time with you. A lot. Like, I, um, _really_ like it. And you. I like you, Bin.”

_Oh shit._

Changbin chokes on his saliva and coughs a couple times, his reaction causing Chan to tense, likely in fear of rejection. Was this the drugs speaking, or was it Chan being unabashedly honest? Maybe, if Changbin was unfortunately lucky, it was both: a fantasy to dream up later, and for Chan to forget?

“Why?” Changbin can’t squeak out much else, too flustered to form a coherent, complex sentence. Was Chan seriously confessing his feelings, or was this a drug-induced hallucination in Changbin’s head?

“Well,” Chan nervously looks down to his hands, anxiously rubbing them together, “I know it’s only been a few months, so I don’t really know. I just feel really comfortable around you. I shouldn’t have a relationship like this with a client, but there’s something about you.” The older man finally looked back up to his junior, eyes glazed over from the drugs, the alcohol, and some tears building up above his bottom eyelids. “You make me feel safe. Nobody’s ever made me feel like that and I want to drown in this feeling. I wanna drown myself in you, in that deep blue ocean of sadness you surround yourself in.”

_Don’t do it, Changbin. Don’t do it. Don’t reach up to his face. Don’t kiss his cute lips. Don’t rub your thumbs on his soft skin. Don’t run your fingers through his smooth, fluffy hair. Don’t fucking do this. You’re going to get rejected or hurt or killed._

_Don’t do this._

Changbin couldn’t help himself, though; the drugs told him that his fears could fuck right off. The way Chan looked up at him with such a pathetic expression caused an explosion of need to bloom in Changbin’s chest. It wasn’t a sexual need, it was just a need for skinship, a need for the warmth of another human, a need to kiss Chan’s lovely-looking, soft face. A need to not be so alone.

It happened without even thinking. Changbin stretched his hands up to Chan’s jawline, hesitating for a second to gaze into his eyes, down to his lips, back to his eyes. God, they were beautiful. _He_ was so beautiful. How had he never noticed before? There’s a flutter in Changbin’s chest before the two of them awkwardly crash their lips together, not thinking about taking their levels of inebriation into consideration as they miscalculated the distance between them. Their noses bumped together, their teeth ground up against each others’, their foreheads collided and caused them to ricochet off of each other. It was a bit painful.

It didn’t matter. 

Chan’s lips felt so soft, so good, so perfect up against Changbin’s, like it was meant to be. Chan opens his mouth, rubbing his tongue up against Changbin’s lips, aggressively pushing his way into the younger man’s mouth. As they rubbed their soft, wet tongues up against each other, discovering new places in the other man’s mouth, Chan gently pushed Changbin back up into the couch, letting his hands drift up into his messy black hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, digging his fingernails in ever so gently. Chan threw his leg over Changbin’s lap, straddling him as he pressed his lips in a little harder.

Changbin felt nervous, but he kept shoving it down. If it wasn’t for the cocaine, the MDMA, and the alcohol, he knew he would be panicking, but it didn’t matter right now. The way that the two of them blended together, as if they were two colours of paint on a palette mixed together to make a new, beautiful colour was too good. Chan kissing Changbin slowly turned him from a sad, flat shade of pitch black, flourishing into a more vibrant, brilliant shade of blue. He slowly blossomed from phthalo to indigo to cerulean to baby blue. His lips were like magic, like sparks dancing against each other, slowly bringing him back to life. This was what he needed; he needed Chan.

The two of them continue losing themselves within each other for what seems like hours, until Chan eventually pulls back, his face flushing in embarrassment as he bites his reddened, swollen bottom lip. 

“I thought you were gonna tell me to fuck off,” he timidly whispers, looking down and away from Changbin. 

“No, no, of course not,” Changbin reaches his hand up to Chan’s cheek, rubbing it softly. “Honestly, I, uh…” his voice trails off as his eyes dart away in self-consciousness, “I kinda like you, too. I just assumed that you wouldn’t be into it, like it was a stupid thought of mine, and you’d turn me down.”

The men awkwardly make eye contact, then look away from each other again. They sit there for a few moments, the film idly making noise in the background, before Changbin decides to speak up. “Is this a good idea?”

Chan shakes his head. “I don’t know. Do you think it’s a _bad_ idea?”

“You’re my fucking dealer, dude,” Changbin scoffs and rolls his eyes. “You tell me.”

“Okay, valid point,” Chan lets out a soft chuckle. “I may have a professional conflict of interest, but it’s pretty obvious you’re my favourite client. Should be fine, as long as no one finds out. Luckily, none of you know each other.”

Despite being crossfaded and higher than a 747, the uneasiness that Changbin was so familiar with came bubbling back up his stomach again. It made him doubt Chan’s intentions one more time. None of them knew each other, sure, but what if he said that to all of his clients? What if there was another person in his life? What if he was going to break Changbin’s heart?

“Bin?” Chan questions, cocking his head to the side. “You good?”

“Sorry,” Changbin blinks rapidly a few times, then stares up at Chan. “I just have a lot of, uh,” he sighs and tilts his head back to rest on the top of the couch, looking up at the ceiling, wanting to lose himself in the patterns his eyes were hallucinating. “I’m really fucked up, Chan. I don’t think you wanna deal with all of my trauma.”

The older man chortles and sits up, bringing his hands to the wall behind Changbin and hovering above the younger man’s head, staring down into his eyes. “I’m fucked up, too, man. No dealer out here is normal. We can be fucked up together.”

Changbin softly exhales, then flits his irises to the side and lets his eyelids flutter shut. “Man,” he grumbles, “I think you underestimate how fucked up I am.”

“I know you have a cocaine problem and you cut yourself a lot and you cry yourself to sleep.” Chan’s bluntness surprises Changbin, causing him to open his eyes and stare up at him in disbelief. “There’s something deep down in you that’s causing you a lot of pain and that’s okay. We’ll get through it together, if you want my help.”

An exasperated sigh escapes Changbin’s lips. “Fine,” he eventually spits out, “just don’t tell me ‘I told you so’ when you eventually get sick and tired of all of my problems.”

Chan leans down and gives the nervous man several deep, needy kisses. “Stop overreacting,” he says between the pecks, “you’re trying to talk me out of it, trying to push me out of it all. Trying to scare me away. It’s not gonna work.” Chan pulls away and looks down to Changbin, smiling softly. “I may be fucked up, but you can’t outfuck me.” he chuckles, “At least, not in this way.”

An uncomfortable, needy warmth spreads in Changbin’s lower abdomen. “Don’t say shit like that.” His voice comes out colder than he’d like. “I’d do it.”

“What?” Chan questions, shaking his head, honestly unsure of what he means.

“God, you dense—” Changbin sighs and throws his head back. “I don’t know if it’s me, or if it’s the drugs, but I would fuck the daylights out of you. I want the neighbours to make a noise complaint. I wanna make sure you can’t walk for a week. I think about this more often than I’d like to admit.” It had to have been the drugs; he would never confess this otherwise.

“I dare you.” It comes so coolly and naturally off of Chan’s tongue that it surprises Changbin.

“Don’t,” he says, half-sincere. He wanted to absolutely wreck the man in his lap, but he still had a pit in his stomach from all of the trauma from before. Changbin shook his head a couple times. No, it would be fine. He’d be fine. If it was him in control, it’d be fine. Right?

Chan ignores the younger man’s protest. He bends down, grazing his teeth across Changbin’s neck. “I’ll admit,” he sighs as he offers a couple of tender nibbles against the soft skin beneath him, “it’s been a long time since I’ve been with another dude, so I’m a little out of practice, but,” he sinks his teeth into the tender skin beneath him, eliciting a soft gasp from the younger man, then abruptly pulls back, “I’m sure you’ll still be happy with me.” A cocky grin spreads across the older man’s face.

Changbin growled in response. He hated that arrogance that Chan had, but he really, truly, secretly loved it. It was a bit of a fantasy of his, but he wanted to fuck the arrogance out of Chan and make him cry and beg and plead underneath him. That would have to wait, he figured. Both of them needed to know each other a little more intimately, first. Chan didn’t need to know all of Changbin’s dark, sick fantasies yet, not until it was safe. 

He shouldn’t be doing _any_ of this until he knew it was safe, but he was willing to throw a little caution to the wind for this. Just this moment. He wanted this moment, where Chan stared down at him, shirtless, eyes wide with desire, pupils blown from all of the yearning and the drugs, to last forever. This look was better than the photo in his phone for Chan, leagues and strides better because it was specifically _for_ Changbin.

“Get up,” Changbin commanded, and it caused Chan to pout.

“Why?”

“You want me to fuck you, or not?”

“Oh,” Chan lifted his eyebrows in surprise as he shifted off of Changbin’s lap, over to the side of the couch. He threw his hands in the air and smiled. “Yes, sir.”

“Gimme a second,” Changbin grumbled as he stumbled off to his bedroom, half hard and very uncomfortable. He pulled open the drawer next to his bed, shuffling past all of the bottles of sleeping pills and excess covered, used and unused razor blades for the bottle of lube and condoms that sank to the bottom of the drawer. It was sad, really, that his razor blades and his other drugs got more attention than the lube and the condoms, but it wasn’t particularly shocking.

Changbin walked back out to the living room, about to ask Chan something, but he lost all train of rational thought when his eyes landed on Chan completely naked on the couch. He had that stupid, arrogant smile on his face as he sat with his arms behind his head.

“What’s with the face?” He said with a smirk, staring at the younger man. “You wanted to fuck, so I figured I’d make it one step easier.”

Changbin just stood there, trying to hold on to any sense of composure as all of his thoughts evaporated from his brain and his mouth dried up. “I hate you,” he whined as he practically ran over to the couch and chaotically scrambled into the older man’s lap. The need for skinship that had bloomed in his chest earlier rapidly blossomed into a burning desire. Changbin needed Chan all over him, and he needed him right fucking _now_. It felt like he needed him more than drugs.

The two men pressed their lips together, their tongues rolling around the outside and inside of their mouths, trying to cover every last millimetre of skin, making sure nothing went untouched. Chan reached up underneath Changbin’s shirt, his warm, sweaty hands traversing up against the younger man’s ribcage, flesh-to-flesh, and it caused Changbin to freeze.

Chan’s hands seared Changbin’s ribcage like a branding iron. 

No. This was _wrong_. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Changbin cried out, pulling back and shaking his head. Chan ripped his hands back, looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes, scared that he had done something wrong. “I need you to know something. I need you to know how fucked up I am.”

“Bin,” Chan whispered, reaching his hands up, looking like he wanted to caress the younger man’s face as he shook and gripping his own hair in a panic. An uneasy look came upon the older man’s face, almost pitying him. Almost like he knew.

“No, like,” tears rapidly built up in Changbin’s eyes and came spilling down his face like a broken faucet. “Before you met me,” he choked out, “before all this shit started, I was at a bar and I drunkenly hit on this one dude and there was this group of guys…” The memory was coming back, vividly replaying itself in Changbin’s memory, and it was making him feel queasy. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

“It’s okay.” Chan calmly cooed up at Changbin, surprisingly calm for all the drugs coursing through his system. “Bin, can I touch your face?”

Changbin couldn’t say anything as he sobbed, so he just nodded frantically, finally letting out all of the months of emotions he had built up. Chan slowly and, as methodically as he could while absolutely fucked out of his mind, reached up to his junior’s face, causing Changbin to twitch when his palms eventually brushed up against his cheeks. His hands were so hot, but at least they didn’t burn anymore. It was almost like they belonged there again.

“It’s okay. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. We can go as slowly as you need,” Chan whispers, bringing his head up close to Changbin’s, lightly pressing their foreheads together. “I’m here for you and I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

Both men just sat there on the couch as Changbin shook and cried. “I hate feeling this shit. I just want it to stop,” he whined. “I think about this every night. I see their faces every time I close my eyes. I feel their hands on my body and I just want it to fucking _stop_.”

“Shh,” Chan whispers, pulling Changbin into his chest and soothingly rubbing the back of his head, patting his hair down. Tears started to build up at the corners of his eyes. “I know. Trust me,” he sighs, “I know. There was this guy I dated a long time ago. Got sick of me. Cheated on me all the time, but I was so fucking infatuated with him, I couldn’t leave. He’d use me, he’d beat me, he tried to kill me.” Chan let out a choked sob underneath Changbin, letting the salty liquid stream down his face. “I would have ended up dead in a ditch somewhere if he didn’t shoot himself in front of me. But I’m out. Baby, I got out. I’m still fucked up, yeah, but I made it out. I’ll help you get you mentally out of this, if you want me to.”

Changbin had no idea what to say. He just sat there in Chan’s arms as they both fell apart. They cried themselves sober as time passed, the repetitive music from the DVD menu playing in the background, but they barely even noticed. 

“I’ll trust you,” Changbin whispers so quietly, it’s almost inaudible.

“What?” Chan couldn’t quite understand what he had said.

Changbin pulls his head back, looking down to Chan with bloodshot eyes. “I’ll trust you, okay? Just, please, don’t fucking hurt me.”

“Oh.” It was a stupid, thoughtless response, but, honestly, Chan didn’t know what to say. He didn’t expect Changbin to admit something like that. “I’ll trust you too, okay?” Chan pulled back and wiped some of the tears off of Changbin’s face as he looked away in embarrassment.

“Emotions are stupid,” the younger man grumbles under his breath, “I’m tired of feeling them.”

“It’s how we know we’re alive, though.” Chan plainly says, dropping his hands to the top of Changbin’s thighs. “It’s how I know I’m embarrassed to be completely naked under you while we’re pouring our hearts out to each other.”

Changbin nearly chokes on the laugh that bubbles up from his lungs. The two of them look at each other, down to Chan’s bare chest, then back up, making awkward eye contact, and they burst out laughing — cackling, actually. They laughed, and laughed, and laughed until their stomachs hurt.

“Ah,” Changbin sighs and leans back. “Sorry for losing it right there. Maybe we could try this tomorrow? My head is killing me from all of this crying.”

Chan pulled Changbin against his chest, gripping his back firmly. “Of course. I told you, we can take this as slowly as you need to, okay?”

“I’d like that,” Changbin whispered. “Let’s go cuddle and fall asleep.” 

“Now that’s a great idea. Let’s do it.”

For the first time in a long time, colours were richly saturated again. Changbin actually felt like he was _living_ , not just _alive_.

* * *

It had to have been late in the afternoon when Changbin woke up, his head throbbing with a tender headache, but it was strangely tolerable compared to most mornings. He rolled on to his back and saw Chan quietly sleeping next to him, his face turned towards him, lips slightly parted, showing off the top row of his teeth.

How was everything he did so cute? Changbin knew that he shouldn’t have done it, but he reached over to the night stand, grabbing his phone. He pulled up the camera app, focused it on Chan’s face, and took a couple of photos. The look on his face was as good as, if not better than, drugs. Changbin wanted to live in this moment forever, just wanted to be around Chan every minute of every day. It was insane how quickly he went from being unsure of trusting him to absolutely obsessing over him.

As quietly as he could, he set his phone back down on the nightstand and slowly reached out to stroke Chan’s cheek as he slept, gently rubbing his thumb in small circles. The older man furrowed his eyebrows and sleepily grumbled, smacking his lips together and mumbling as he shifted around, slowly waking up.

Changbin should have stopped touching Chan’s face, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. It was so soft, so pretty, so _perfect_. Chan’s eyes start to flutter open, his irises lazily coming to, spinning around a bit as he blinked, until they finally land on the man staring down at him.

“Woah,” Chan tiredly mumbles, blinking a few more times, “good morning to you too, Bin.”

Changbin shakes his head and lets go of Chan’s face. “Oh, shit,” he gasps. “Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it?”

Chan frowns, reaching for Changbin’s hand and placing it back on his face. “No,” he says with a pout. “I just forgot where I was for a second. Keep touching me. I like it when you touch my face.”

“You like it?” Changbin cocks his head to the side, trying to hide the smile that was creeping up on his face.

“Don’t lose your shit when I tell you this, but,” Chan smiles as he sits upright, “I like you, too. Crazy, right?”

The younger man rolls his eyes and purses his lips together. “You’re a sap.”

“Get used to it,” Chan says and sticks his tongue out. “Never gonna change. Anyway, you got some painkillers? We did too much shit last night and my head is killing me, dude.”

“Yeah, gimme a sec,” Changbin got up, the world spinning around him as he got to his feet. He shook his head twice, blinking rapidly and trying not to feel so hungover. After a moment, he padded off into the washroom just a few steps away, taking a glance at himself in the mirror as he reached down into the drawers for some paracetamol. 

His cheeks were still sunken in and he still looked sick, but he no longer looked so deathly grey. That’s when it hit him — his first thought this morning wasn’t getting his hands on cocaine — it was getting his hands on Chan. Changbin gasped at himself in realization as he dropped the plastic bottle on the counter, bouncing and rolling down to the floor. 

Was he finally starting to heal, or was this just another unhealthy coping mechanism?

“Bin,” Chan’s voice floats in from the bedroom. “You good, dude?”

“Y-yeah,” Changbin stutters as he bends down to grab the bottle off of the floor. “Just thinking.” He grabbed the glass next to the sink and filled it up with water, taking a sip from it as he spun on his heel and walked back to the bedroom.

“Sorry,” he continues, handing Chan the glass and bottle of medicine, “I’m just kinda surprised. I look a little less dead, which is surprising in and of itself, but the real shocker is that my first thought this morning wasn’t cocaine for the first time in months.”

Chan’s face lights up with a large grin as he stares at Changbin. “Seriously? That’s amazing!”

Changbin sits back down on the bed, letting a half-smirk come up on his face. “Yeah, I guess so, huh? Bad for your business, though.”

The bottle pops open and Chan shakes a couple of pills onto the bed, grabbing them and tossing them into his mouth, swallowing them down with a couple sips of water. “Ah, dude,” he sets the glass and bottle down on the nightstand, “don’t worry about it. I’d rather have you get clean than keep selling you shit that’s gonna kill you.”

Get _clean_. Could he really do that?

“Now,” Chan crawls his way in front of Changbin with that goofy smile on his face, “more importantly.” He reaches up to the younger man’s face, pulling him closer, “happy birthday, Binnie.” He gently presses his lips against his junior’s, to which Changbin tentatively pushes back in response, then kisses Chan back a bit more aggressively.

The way that Chan tasted on his lips was better than drugs. It was better than getting hammered. It was better than the temporary relief he got from digging blades into his skin. It was so good, and he never wanted it to stop. They were pressing their tongues against each others’ and that’s when it slips from Changbin.

“I’m ready,” he breathily whispers. 

Chan pulls back, holding on to Changbin’s face, looking him in the eyes. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” the younger man nods. “I gotta be on top, though, if that’s cool?”

“Dude,” Chan scoffs, pressing their lips together again, “that’s fine. Whatever you need. You take control and I’ll just be here for the ride. Literally.”

Changbin grits his teeth and rolls his eyes, glaring at Chan. “Did you seriously just make a goddamned pun?”

“Yeah.” Chan winks. “Get used to it.”

* * *

The way that the sunlight shines in through the window, dancing down on Chan as his skin is glistening from sweat is breathtaking. Changbin has three fingers inside of him and it’s causing the older man to writhe and make some of the cutest and simultaneously hottest noises he’s ever heard. The combination of the sights and the sounds he’s taking in causes his stomach to burn in the best way possible.

“Binnie,” Chan whines, opening his eyes to look up at Changbin, “that feels so good. You feel so good.”

“Yeah?” Changbin bends down to give Chan a needy kiss. “You look so beautiful like this under me. I want to wake up and see this every day.”

Chan lets out a mewl as his cock twitches in response to Changbin’s words. “Ah, baby, I’m ready for you.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chan assertively nods.

“Alright. Gimme a sec.” Changbin leaves his fingers inside Chan, reaching over and grabbing the lube and condom from the nightstand. He haphazardly rips the foil between his teeth, letting the slippery condom fall into his hand, then rolls it on. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

“Shut up and fuck me already,” Chan whimpers as he continues to writhe against Changbin’s fingers.

Changbin bites back a growl. “I’m gonna fuck that stupid arrogance out of you,” slips from his lips before he processes what he’s said. Chan’s eyes open wide as he stares up to his junior. “Oh, shit, I didn’t even think before I —“

“Do it,” he moans and chews on his lip. “I dare you.”

Changbin chooses to bite his tongue, wanting to bite back with a dirtier quip, but he doesn’t want to scare Chan off yet. So, instead, he huffs a breath from his nose and squirts some lube onto his cock and removes his fingers from Chan. “You’re gonna regret that, pretty boy.” 

Chan smirks and bares his teeth. “Make me, _pretty boy_.”

This man was going to be the absolute death of Changbin. He closes his eyes tightly, restraining himself from saying anything further as he lines himself up against Chan’s entrance, slowly slipping inside. He looks down, observing the older man’s expression rapidly changing from cocky and arrogant to blissed out in a split second. 

“Ah, Changbin,” is all Chan is able to moan out as his eyes roll backwards and he sucks in a deep, lengthy breath. The way that he draws out the last syllable of Changbin’s name drives him mad, makes him feel like he would be able to come just from that.

“Can I keep moving?”

“Please, please, yes.”

“Alright. If you need me to stop, tell me.” Changbin says, bringing his hands down to either side of Chan’s head, putting his weight on them as he slowly pushes his way inside the man beneath him. He can’t help but let out a breathy moan as he bottoms out, watching the spectrum of emotions come across Chan’s face.

“Fuck,” Chan whines and twitches underneath Changbin, looking up at him. “Kiss me, please just fucking kiss me.”

So, he does as he’s requested. Changbin drops to his elbow and grabs Chan’s chin with his other hand, bringing it to his face. He doesn’t bother offering sweet, gentle kisses. No, he aggressively jams his tongue into Chan’s mouth, bringing his bottom lip in between his own teeth, biting firmly and causing the older man beneath him to squirm and moan.

Chan brings his hands up to Changbin’s back, drawing his fingernails into his skin, causing the younger man to let out a strained groan. They continue running their tongues in and around their mouths, then Changbin finally starts moving, grinding his hips back and forth slowly, causing Chan to break from the kiss and cry out loudly.

“You’re gonna make, ah,” Changbin groans, kissing Chan’s cheek as he continues to move, “gonna make the neighbours upset with how loud you are.”

“I don’t care,” Chan continues to whine and moan, “let them be mad. Make them so mad you have to move in with me. We can fuck all day and night and I don’t care who hears us.”

Changbin wanted to bathe in this moment for the rest of his life. Chan felt so _good_ around him, the ways that he bucked and twitched underneath him, the things he said to him going straight to his head, making him feel like he was floating on air. He kept kissing and biting the neck and jaw the older man, leaving obvious bruises on his smooth skin,. Changbin takes his hand away from Chan’s face and reaches down to his twitching cock.

“Fuck!” Chan gasps at his touch, causing his hips to thrust into his junior’s hand. “Oh, god, if you do that, I’m gonna —“

“Close already,” Changbin pants, stroking Chan’s cock with purpose, “I want you to come with me.”

“Okay, yeah, okay,” Chan panics underneath Changbin. “Just don’t stop kissing me, please.”

Changbin hastily presses his lips against Chan’s, not trying to give good, quality kisses. These were needy, desperate, messy kisses that he could barely appropriately place or piece together. “Fuck,” he groans and pushes inside Chan one last time, coming unravelled as his orgasm takes over his body, causing him to twitch and moan uncontrollably.

Chan reached down to wrap his hand around Changbin’s, helping him pump his cock a few more times before he comes, his cum splattering up against both of their stomachs and chests. He gasps and mewls, shakily reaching back up to Changbin’s hair, attempting to pull him in for a kiss.

They let their breathing calm as they lay against each other, taking in the experience and letting the rush of oxytocin and dopamine flow through them. “That was amazing,” Changbin whispers, pulling out of Chan, rolling over to his side, looking over at the older man and taking in his profile. He was so unbelievably beautiful. “I didn’t know that could feel so good with all of the shit that’s happened before.”

Chan turns his head, smiling. “Yeah,” he sighs. “That was nice.” He takes his hand and strokes the younger man’s face. “And hey, I’m not so arrogant anymore, yeah?”

“Oh my god.” Changbin groans, rolling his eyes as presses his head into the bed in mock irritation. “We should shower.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

* * *

“I don’t want you to leave,” Changbin whines at Chan as he grabs his car keys off of the kitchen counter.

“It’ll only be for a day or two,” Chan dismissively says, stopping in front of the door and turning to look at Changbin. “I don’t want to leave you, either, but I gotta meet with my other clients. It’s been two days and my boss is gonna fucking kill me.”

“But, I need you.”

Chan bites back an irritated groan. “Changbin, please. I’ve got to take care of this.” His tone is curt and colder than he intended. “I promise, I’m gonna be back.”

The younger man nervously chews on his lip, recoiling into himself at Chan’s tone. He was going to fuck this up, and he knew it. “I’m sorry, I just,” he looks down to his feet, “I just get really needy. Being around you feels so right and it makes me feel normal again.”

“Bin,” Chan sighs. This wasn’t healthy behaviour, they both knew that, but Changbin was probably just overreacting. He reaches up to grab his junior’s face, bending down a bit to look directly into his eyes. “I told you, I’ve gotta work, just a little. I’ll be back as soon as I can and then we can do whatever you want, alright?”

“Fine,” Changbin exhales sharply, the expression on his face changing from panic to disappointment. “I’ll just wait until then.”

Chan smiles, then kisses Changbin on the forehead, then his lips. “It’s not like you can’t message me or whatever. I’ll have downtime. Maybe send me some questionable photos of yourself if you get really bored tonight and we can sext like we’re a couple of dumb, horny university students?”

A laugh creeps up Changbin’s throat at the thought. “That sounds like it could be fun. Make the time pass a little faster.”

“See?” Chan kisses Changbin’s lips again and then turns to face the door. “It won’t be that long, I promise. Take a nap, watch a movie, drink some water. I’ll be back before you know it. See you in a little while, okay, Bin?”

“Yeah,” Changbin waves at Chan by sticking his hand up in the air briefly, “see you, Chan.”

The door shut with a soft thud and things slowly started to desaturate again. Not fully, but colours seemed less vibrant to Changbin. That sinking feeling of loneliness and dread came back up, slowly consuming him. He knew that the way he was getting rapidly attached to Chan, almost as if he were an alternative to drugs, was unhealthy, but nothing about him was healthy. 

“Whatever,” he quietly mutters to himself, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a beer from the fridge. He doesn’t really feel like drinking, but he didn’t know what else he would do. Maybe he’d drink enough to pass out and make time go faster. 

* * *

Changbin wasn’t really sure what time it was when his phone started to vibrate on the coffee table. He drunkenly lifted his head from the pile of drool he had left on the couch cushion, slamming his hand on the table and fumbling around for his phone. Once it was in his hand, he stared at the screen, shining too brightly in his face, causing him to wince. 

17:48. _Incoming call: mine <3_

He instantly perked up, seeing Chan’s face on his phone. At some point in his drunken stupor, he had changed his contact photo to the picture he had taken the day before, right before Chan had awoken. He was just so breathtaking to look at. It took a second, but he eventually, somehow, drunkenly rolled his thumb over the “answer” button.

“Took you long enough,” Chan playfully scolds from the other end of the line. “I called you an hour ago but I figured you were sleeping, you weirdo.”

“Mmh,” Changbin groans, lazily slapping his free hand to his face, tiredly rubbing his temples in discomfort. “Y’could say I slept.”

“Are you okay?”

 _No. You’re not here._ He wanted to say that, but he was already enough of a burden on the poor guy. “‘m fine. Just tired. Got bored. Drunk. Passed out for, uh,” he pauses, mentally recalling when exactly he passed out, but nothing came to mind. “I dunno, a while.”

There’s a tense pause between the two of them as neither of them say anything.

“Well,” Chan awkwardly breaks the silence, “I told you to take a nap, and I guess you did. Not what I really expected, but that’s okay.” He didn’t sound upset, but he wasn’t happy. Wonderful, Changbin was being a disappointment yet again.

“You finished working yet?” 

“Nah,” Chan lets out a sigh, “the boss wants me to take care of a couple extra clients since I was, what’d he say, ‘preoccupied’, the past couple days.”

“Sorry.” Changbin grumbles. Another thing to fault himself for.

“It’s fine! He’s just a dick that hates me and has always been like this. Always likes to shove more work on me, y’know?”

“I don’t, but it’s okay.” When was the last time Changbin actually worked, anyways? He was lucky that he had a decent inheritance from his parents to support his stupid habits, but he didn’t really feel that lucky after all.

“Anyway,” Chan speaks like he’s smiling, “the good news is I’ll be able to come back home to see you sooner than I thought.”

_Home?_

“Leaving you today sucked and I’ve felt like shit all day without you.”

“Oh,” Changbin gasps, blinking a few times at his words. _So do I; you should never leave_ , he thought to himself, _stay with me forever._

“Yeah, I, uh,” Chan coughs once, clearing his throat, “I miss you already. Your arms feel like I belong in them, like they’re where I should be all the time.”

“Chan,” Changbin starts to speak, but is abruptly cut off.

“Lemme finish. Look, remember how I told you that you made me feel safe? I wasn’t kidding. You and I both have our fair share of problems, and I know that we’ve got a lot to work through, but we’ll get through it. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want.”

“I don’t know what to say,” a surprised sigh leaves Changbin’s lips.

“That’s fine.” Chan’s voice seems louder for some reason. “Open your door.”

“What?” Changbin sits upright, the room spinning from how quickly he gets up. “Why?”

“I’m here. I can’t be away from you for another minute.”

Changbin drops his phone as he stands up, drunkenly stumbling his way to the door. He fumbles a bit with the lock but eventually throws the door open, and there _he_ is, his light, his purpose. _His_. Chan has that stupid grin on his face and there’s no way that he can handle it. Everything gets bright, colourful, and loud again. Changbin grabs Chan’s arm, pulling him inside his apartment, slamming the door shut and pulling him into his arms. 

“Hi,” Chan sighs, “I missed you too.”

“Shut up.” Changbin whines, pressing his lips up to his senior’s. Chan drops his phone as Changbin sloppily kisses him, pressing him back, further and further until they collide on to the couch. 

“Woah,” Chan gasps, pulling away from Changbin for a second. “You really did miss me, huh?”

“I did,” it almost sounds like a plea as Changbin says it. “I know, I know you’re a functioning adult with real-world responsibilities, and I’m just a drunken idiot,” tears start welling up in his eyes, “but I never knew I needed someone in my life so badly. I never knew I needed _you_ so badly. Chan, I…” his voice trails off and the tears building in his eyes fall, landing on his senior’s cheeks.

“Binnie, baby,” Chan reaches up to soothingly rub Changbin’s face, “it’s okay, I’m here.”

“No, Chan, you don’t get it. I love you, okay?” 

_Shit_. No, he didn’t mean to say that. It was too soon. Oh, god, he was fucking this up again. He was going to scare Chan away and then be alone. He was going to die alone. Changbin tried to apologize in a panic, but his mind/body connection was severed. He just sat up and stuttered incoherently. 

The two of them stared at each other for several minutes, their thoughts lost, drifting away in the silence. Changbin covered his face with his hands and cried harder. He was making all of the wrong moves and it felt like a crushing weight on his chest.

“Bin,” Chan whispers, reaching up to pull Changbin’s arms away from his face.

Changbin shakes his head, pulling his hands up harder to his face. “Don’t, Chan, please. I’m fucking this all up.”

“ _Changbin_ ,” Chan firmly scolds, sitting up and successfully pulling Changbin’s arms away, revealing his red, tear-stricken, panicked face. “Shut up for a second. You’re not fucking anything up.”

“W-what?” Changbin squeaks out, slightly hyperventilating.

“You’re not. I promise. Sure, it’s a bit sudden, bit rushed, but it’s okay. You’re drunk and being incredibly, unabashedly honest with your feelings. I swear, you’re just fine, baby.” Chan rubs his junior’s face, trying to soothe the terrified man. “In some weird, fucked up way, I love you too. Like I told you, you make me feel safe. Your arms make me feel like I’m at home, like I belong somewhere.”

“Chan, I…”

“I told you, it’s alright. Stop crying and let yourself breathe, you drunken goofball.” Chan wraps his arms around Changbin and pulls him into his chest. “I’m here now and I accept you for who you are. One day at a time, okay?”

“Fine,” Changbin whines into Chan’s shoulder. He still felt horrible for admitting his feelings literally two days after they started seeing each other, but it was too late to take it back. At least he was honest, even if he didn’t intend to be or want to be.

“Also,” a soft laugh escaped Chan’s lips, “I gotta admit something”

“What’s up?”

“I, uh,” Chan paused and dug his chin into Changbin’s shoulder. “I’ll admit, I came over here for more than just to see you. I was thinking about yesterday afternoon and I was kind of hoping that, before I had to go meet my next client, we could, you know…”

“Oh,” Changbin cocks his head to the side as he thinks about the memory, about how good Chan felt around him, about the way the sun shone on his body, about the faces he made and the sounds that came from him. He let out a giggle. “That was fun. That’s a good idea.”

“You sure you’re not too drunk? You _did_ just tell me you loved me.”

“ _Love_ you,” Changbin corrected Chan, pulling back. “ _Loved_ means I don’t love you anymore. Past tense. Present tense. I _love_ you.”

“I wanna hear you say that every minute of every day.” Chan smiles, then leans in to kiss the man in his lap. “Because I love you, too. Present tense.”

* * *

Goddamn it. 

As soon as Chan left, Changbin instantly started to panic. How could he admit something so stupid so soon? The rational part of him knew that it was going to be okay, but the irrational part of him was always unfortunately much, much louder. The irrational part of him was telling him to panic and led him to the coffee table, having him hastily cut up a line of some of his reserve cocaine and inhale it, so he did. 

Once the initial rush of the drugs warmed him, he looked down at the blade he used to cut the line, wildly staring at it as the thoughts overwhelmed his mind. The irrational part of him had him adding more fucked up lines of blood all over his left arm again. He knew that Chan would be upset to see this when he got home, but, again, the irrational part of him didn’t care. He just needed the panic to stop, and this was the only way he knew how to cope. He would drag lines into his skin until his entire arm was red and inflamed and soaking in blood.

“Fuck,” Changbin sighed, letting the razor fall to the floor. He sat down on the ground, then fell to his back, anxiously pulling his hands into his hair. The irrational part of him finally shut up for a minute, and a wave of regret washed over him. He hated this all so much. He wanted to go back to being a normal human being with a normal life and normal desires, but he knew that was never going to happen.

Racking sobs overtook him as blood from his arm dripped down on his face. He curled up into himself and rolled onto his side, shaking and sobbing and completely unravelling. 

“What the fuck?” Chan’s alarmed voice travelled up through the door as he ran over and scooped Changbin into his arms, leaning up against the couch. “Binnie, baby, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here, shh,” he soothed.

Changbin panicked, gasping in between sobs. “Y-you’re not, not supposed to…”

“I forgot my phone and you didn’t lock the door. Shh,” Chan rocks back and forth, trying to soothe Changbin. He strokes the younger man’s hair, not caring that he was getting blood all over him. “What’s happening? Why are you panicking? Why did you cut yourself again?”

“I just…”

“You have to stop fucking doing this, Changbin. _Please_. I can’t see you hurting like this. It hurts so much to see you in this much pain, knowing I can’t do anything to stop it.

“I told you, I’ve got a lot of trauma,” the younger man hiccups as he cries, rolling his forehead against Chan’s clavicle. “I’m fucked up. I don’t know how to handle panicking. I never know what to do. This is just what I do. I’m irrational. I’m fucked up. Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not gonna leave you,” Chan sighs, “I just worry about you. I’m worried I’m gonna come home one of these days and you’re not gonna respond to me. That you’ll be here, but you’ll be gone.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” Chan commands, resting his head on top of Changbin’s. “It’s not your fault. But we gotta get you help, because this either ends in you getting help or dying and I can’t lose you. If I lose you, I lose everything.”

“No,” Changbin shakes his head and cries a little harder. “I can’t get help. Therapy here is a joke. Everyone will judge me and I’ll be labelled more of a reject than I already am.”

“Who cares?” Chan retorts. “It’s better than dying sooner than you should’ve for being a stubborn idiot that doesn’t want to get help. I’m not going to let you do this to yourself. No more drugs. No more cutting.”

_What?_

“No, Chan,” Changbin pushes away from Chan, shaking his head. “I need something, I need anything to cope with this.” 

“You have _me_.”

“But you’re still gonna sell drugs?”

“If you quit using and get help? Fuck no.” Chan reaches up to Changbin, firmly gripping both sides of his face. “I’ll leave it all behind. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you happy and healthy. We’ll get through this together, okay? I promise. I love you — present tense.”

Changbin chokes back a sob. “Why, though?”

“I don’t know, dude, love is irrational,” Chan rests his forehead against Changbin’s and sighs, “We’re two irrational people. We just happened to get into a couple fucked up situations, found each other, bonded over said fucked up situations, and now we’re here. You dance around my head all day and you're all I can think about. You make me comfortable. You’re home. I don’t wanna be anywhere that you’re not.”

“Fine,” Changbin sighs. “I’ll do it. You quit selling drugs, then I’ll stop doing them. I’ll stop cutting. I’ll go see a stupid therapist, but I don’t think it’s gonna do anything.”

“Really?” Chan’s eyes lit up with genuine happiness.

“Yeah. I’m gonna be miserable and you’re gonna have to be here to help me ride it out, but I think I can make it work with you around.”

“I’ve got you. I’ll help you through it, I promise.”

* * *

Changbin was 10 days sober from drugs. He couldn’t quite break off the cutting habit — he was only maybe two days clean from that — but it was less than how much he usually cut and he was finally getting better. This was the longest streak he had under his belt, and it was a surprisingly good feeling. He had his second therapy appointment scheduled for the day after next and, while it was awkward, he did feel a bit better, like he was on his way to developing healthy coping mechanisms like a normal human being.

A trill came from the phone in his pocket and so he checked it, and several messages started coming in from Chan.

> 20:50 | mine <3: hey! so I’m gonna be away from home tonight  
> 20:50 | mine <3: prolly gonna take a nap once im done then come home really early in the morning I mean like stupid early  
> 20:51 | mine <3: the less I have to be away from you the better  
> 20:52 | mine <3: boss wants me to finish up one thing for this problem client  
> 20:52 | mine <3: such a fucking dick ugh I hate his guts  
> 20:53 | mine <3: but hey im almost done! this is the last thing!  
> 20:54 | mine <3: maybe we can celebrate tomorrow?

He smiled at his phone, shooting off a couple of messages back to Chan.

> 20:55 | sent: i think thats a good idea  
> 20:55 | sent: i love you and im proud of you for leaving  
> 20:56 | mine <3: and I’m proud of you for getting clean  
> 20:56 | mine <3: I love you  
> 20:56 | mine <3: present tense  
> 20:57 | sent: present tense <3

Things were finally starting to look up for once. Changbin just had to finish cleaning up his apartment, make it look nice, then go grab some groceries from the store so he could make something nice for dinner tomorrow. Get it done and over with tonight, make the time go by a little faster. Maybe he’d see Chan in a few hours and they could start celebrating early.

He couldn’t help but smile at himself, happy at the thought. Honestly, truly happy without any of the inebriation. Everything was so colourful and pleasant again, and it was all thanks to his Chan, a much better alternative to all of the drugs.

* * *

Changbin had been walking home from the store when a familiar face passed him on the sidewalk. They made eye contact, and he froze in place, struck in absolute terror. The man didn’t notice him, but Changbin could never forget those eyes. He could never forget the way that they bored holes into his skull as his hands dug into his hips, as they slammed his head down against the dumpster and violated him.

All of the memories of that day came flooding back in all at once, and he was there. He was in the moment. He felt the strange men tear his clothing, calling him horrible things, violently beating him and drunkenly taking turns using him as nothing more than an instrument to get themselves off. How they left him there to die, cold and alone.

He had done so, so well with making progress towards recovery, but this was too much. Changbin needed to get home, to call Chan, to numb his pain. Why did Chan have to be away from home, tonight of all days? 

There was no way he could live with this memory coming back, so crisp and clear in his mind. The bags fell from his hands as he quickly rushed home, all of the colour in his vision disappearing, evaporating into the sapphire blue night sky. Fuck the sobriety. Fuck the coping mechanisms he didn’t have. He couldn’t handle the overwhelming sense of dread and living in panic coming back up, not one more fucking time, bubbling up in his chest like an unattended kettle. The irrational voice in his head was so loud and so demanding again.

Stuff it down. Make it stop. Stuff it down. Make it stop. 

Make it all fucking _stop_.

* * *

Chan had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach when he woke up at nearly one in the morning out of a dead sleep, skin covered in a thick layer of sweat. Something was wrong and he could feel it. He reached over to his nightstand to grab his phone, and his heart sinks when he sees a mass of texts and missed calls from Changbin. Most of them didn’t make much sense, they just continued to get more and more unintelligible as they went on. They stopped an hour ago.

> 22:47 | binnie baby: chan  
> 22:48 | binnie baby: please pick up  
> 22:53 | binnie baby: I saw hm  
> 22:55 | binnie baby: I am freaking the fuck out  
> 23:18 | binnie baby: id wanna strangle hs fcukng thorat  
> 23:30 | binnie baby: chaaasamn  
> 23:45 | binnie baby: wakw upp  
> 23:47 | binnie baby: i nede yuo  
> 23:53 | binnie baby: evirimrythnl hurtds

This was bad. Fuck, why was he away from home, today of all days?

He jumped out of bed, grabbing a pair of joggers left on the floor and he threw them on, leaving his well worn, holed up t-shirt on. There was an overwhelming sense of panic and dread as he ran into the entryway, slipping on a pair of shoes and bolting through the front door.

Changbin. He needed to call Changbin.

Chan fumbled with his phone as he ran to his car, breath trailing in the chilly autumn air as he ran. It felt like his car was so far away, that it had never been so far from him in his life. He tries to call Changbin several times in a row, but he never picked up. 

No. 

No, no, no, no, _no_. This wasn’t happening.

Chan drops the keys to his car as he tries to shakily pull them from his pocket. As he bends down to pick them up, tears start falling from his eyes, clouding up his vision and colliding with the ground, temporarily painting it a darker shade of grey.

He manages to grab his keys, awkwardly fumbling with the buttons on the fob to unlock his doors. It locked and unlocked a couple of times, until Chan calmed himself enough to deliberately press the unlock button. He climbed into the car, not bothering to put on his seatbelt, as he drove down the empty streets of Seoul.

Changbin’s apartment was seventeen-and-a-half minutes away without traffic. Chan had made the drive so many times, that it was second nature to him. He sped down the streets, likely going well over the speed limit and probably getting caught by every single digital speed tracker. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting to his Changbin.

Chan pulled in to the parking garage exactly thirteen minutes later. He didn’t pay attention to where or how he parked, he just needed to get to Changbin, then everything would be okay. Everything else could wait. He practically leaped out of his car, slamming the door behind him as he ran to the fire escape stairs. The elevator would be too slow, he figured. 

There was still a chance, there had to be. First floor, second floor, third floor, they all rushed right past him. Fourth floor, fifth floor, sixth floor. There was one floor left. Changbin’s apartment was the second door to the right from the stairwell. Chan shook as he rifled through his keys to specifically pluck at Changbin’s apartment key, fumbling to get it in the lock.

There was blood and a chef’s knife on the floor. It was the first thing Chan noticed as he opened the door. Everything reeked of iron and copper. Chan had only witnessed someone die once, and the smell was unmistakeable. 

He was too late. He knew it, but refused to admit it to himself until he saw Changbin.

“Bin,” he whines, taking a shaky step through the entrance. “Binnie, baby, please.” This had to be a cruel, sick joke. “Don’t do this to me, please.” It felt like he was moving through waist-deep slush, his legs heavy and not operating at their full capacity as he shakily shuffled forward. “Changbin, I love you, please…”

He made his way past the couch, and the memory of their first kiss floated through his mind. That was the couch where Changbin got drunk and told Chan he loved him. That was the couch where Changbin promised Chan he was going to get clean and Chan told him that he was going to quit selling drugs, where they’d finally get their shit together. It was just over a week ago.

“ _Loved_ means I don’t love you anymore. Past tense.” Changbin’s voice replayed in his head, so, so loudly. “Present tense. I _love_ you.” 

No, it was too painful to think about. He had to keep moving.

Changbin was in his bedroom, slumped up against the foot of his bed, decorated in bloodied razor blades and empty pill bottles. If there wasn’t so much blood and if it didn’t smell like bodily fluids, rot, and death, he almost looked peaceful. _Almost_. Except for the fact that all of the colour had left his face. Except for the fact that he was covered in dried blood and vomit. Except for the fact that he was turning a soft shade of cerulean. Except that there was crusted blood stuck to his lips. Except for the fact that his eyes were wide open and glossy, pupils completely blown out.

Except for the fact that he was fucking dead.

Chan didn’t let that fact register in his head as he shuffled over to Changbin, crashing to his knees, reaching up to touch Changbin’s cold, stiff, lifeless face. “It’s okay,” he says with a broken smile and a cracked voice as tears don’t stop spilling from his eyes, “you just needed to sleep. I’ll let you sleep, baby.” Chan leans in to kiss Changbin’s forehead, his skin so cold and clammy. “I’ll wake you up in the morning and I can draw you up a nice bath and clean you up and we can cuddle in bed all day. I love you. Present tense, I love you, please don’t leave me. Changbin, I need you. I need you so badly. You’re my home, baby.”

The pleading is useless, and the rational part of Chan’s brain knows this. He won’t let the rational part of his head talk right now - it was too much. No, he needed the voices to stop. Changbin had given him so much purpose and light and colour to his life and now he was gone and Chan was alone and lost again and everything was completely desaturated. His light was gone, and there was an empty pit in his chest that burned, but didn’t hurt.

He needed the voices to just fucking _stop_.

Changbin had a collection of razor blades he kept in his nightstand drawer. He had secret stashes all over the apartment. Chan knew this, because he scolded him for it a few days ago when he saw new marks in his skin. He cried and he cried and begged and pleaded for Changbin to stop fucking cutting himself, clearly to no avail. His body moved mechanically as he let go of Changbin’s face, crawling over to dig through the drawer. There was still a bottle of unlabelled pills on top of the blades that he knew were what Changbin used to fall asleep some nights.

Fuck it, that’ll help.

Chan opens the bottle and pours its entire contents in his mouth, letting them fall down his throat. He swallows a couple of times, then grabs one of the blades, removing its protective plastic casing and recklessly discarding it somewhere behind him.

Chan turns to look at Changbin with a weak, disturbing smile. “I love you, Binnie. I’ll be right by your side forever, right where we should be.” He leans over to kiss his cheek a couple of times before he looks down to the razor blade and all of the emotions evaporate from his face. The tears stop falling from his eyes and he takes in a deep, steady breath.

They could both finally drift off into the indigo abyss, where everything would stop hurting. They could be together. 

Forever.

**Author's Note:**

> this was exceptionally difficult to write. I cried more times than I'd like to admit while writing and editing it. but, I had to get it out of my head. it's all I thought about for, like, four days straight. I hope that, despite all of the horrible stuff in this, that maybe you enjoyed the rollercoaster of a story my brain spat out.
> 
> consider leaving a comment. they make my day. ♡


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